


I'm the Fury in your Head

by hollys_meanreds



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollys_meanreds/pseuds/hollys_meanreds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That is what I was told to say to highborn ladies, 'as m'lady commands'."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm the Fury in your Head

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt given by lokiyan: AU - Ned brought Gendry to the North when he was a child as a favor to his mother and kept his identity secret as Mikken's apprentice. He never got along with the oldest Stark girl until one day things changed and they realized that they loved each other all along (inspired by Princess Bride). (See original prompt [here](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4397.html?thread=2205229#t2205229), 'cause there are some "visual aids".)

The boy is only five when his mother, a woman with long, silky yellow hair, hands him to a grim faced man with dark hair and grey eyes. His mother softly sings to him as his eyes fill up with tears, and he knows that he will never see her again.

She strokes his thick, black hair and kisses the side of his face. 

“Goodbye, Gendry, my love. My sweet, strong boy.” At that, she steps back, eyes shining with sadness, and nods at the man. 

Little Gendry does not allow himself to cry out in sobs or to even let a single tear fall; he will be his mother’s strong boy. 

~ 

As soon as Gendry is twelve, Mikken allows him to take up a hammer and work in the forge at Winterfell. The cold air burns his lungs as he hits steel over and over, its sweet song filling his ears. Over time, his body becomes hard with muscle and the over present soot and sweat becomes almost permanent on his skin. 

One day, he hears the door creak, and sees Lady Arya walk in, a mischievous grin on her face. 

“Gendry,” she says, “I want you to make me a sword.” 

Gendry scoffs and shakes his head. “Your lord father would have me strung up if I did such a thing.” Arya stomps her feet and crosses her arms, huffing. “Aren’t you meant to be doing whatever it is ladies do?” he asks. 

“You stupid bull, I don’t want to be a lady! I want to fight and--” 

“All right, Arya Underfoot.” 

“Do _not_ call me that!” she shouts. 

“And what are you going to do about it?” He looks pointedly down at her. 

Arya walks over to Gendry and pushes him with all her might, something that makes him take only a step back. He sets him hammer down and wrestles Arya to the ground, both of them laughing as they roll in the dirt. 

“Arya!” Gendry lifts his head up and sees the older Stark girl standing there, appalled. He quickly stands up and cringes when he sees the dirt, grease, and soot covering Arya’s dress. Arya however, does not look embarrassed at all, only annoyed. “What are you doing? We are supposed to be practicing our stitching. Septa Mordane sent me to look for you!” 

“I don’t want to stitch! I want to stay here with Gendry!” 

Sansa’s eyes turn to Gendry. “You are too familiar with my sister, and a lady is not to be treated as such.” 

“You cannot tell Gendry what to do!” 

“As m’lady commands,” Gendry says, inclining his head towards Sansa. Arya has gone silent, and he can feel her eyes on him. He glances up at Lady Sansa, but she looks down at the ground as soon as their eyes meet. 

“Come, Arya.” Sansa turns and leaves. 

Arya does not say anything as she leaves the forge, and there is only a look of betrayal on her face. Gendry is afraid he has lost his best friend all because of Sansa Stark. 

~ 

The king is due to be in Winterfell any day, and stupid Sansa will not shut up about stupid Prince Joffrey. 

At least, that’s what Arya tells him. 

They’ve become more careful about her visits to him, but Arya assures him that Sansa will not tell, not after she told Sansa that she knew she had kissed Theon Greyjoy, something, strangely, that makes Gendry’s belly burn with jealousy. 

But, when the king and his court make their way into Winterfell, and everyone is out to greet them, Gendry feels that same burn when he sees the way the prince is looking at Sansa. 

Days later, when the princes are sparring against the little lords of Winterfell in the training yard and Gendry is helping Mikken with the weapons, he spots the ladies watching from the side, Sansa included. 

“You, boy!” Gendry looks up and sees that it was the crowned prince himself that called for him. Gendry walks over, keeping his head down. 

“Yes, m’lord?” 

“You look like you know how to swing a sword, yes?” Gendry curtly nods his head. “Cross swords with me and _I’ll_ show these Stark boys how a man fights.” 

Gendry looks at Joffrey, eyeing his thin arms and noting how he can almost see clean over the prince. “My lord-” 

“Are you a coward? Are you afraid?” Joffrey begins to laugh, and Gendry can hear a few chuckles coming from the ladies. He clenches his fists. 

“No, m’lord. I am not.” 

“Then take up a sword and fight me.” 

Gendry turns and stalks to the rack containing the wooden and dulled swords. He reaches out towards one of the dull ones, wondering what his punishment will be for harming the prince. _Does he even know what he’s doing?_

“Please don’t fight him.” She must have stolen away from the rest of the ladies to talk to him, but Gendry refuses to look at Sansa. 

“I cannot say ‘no’ to the prince.” 

“ _Please_.” He can smell the rosewater in her hair and when he looks into her Tully blue eyes, he understands that she is afraid for her _precious_ prince. But he finds he cannot say no to her. 

“As m’lady commands.” 

So he turns and walks back to the prince, and when he ask where Gendry’s sword is, Gendry admits himself a coward and says that the prince would defeat him a hundred times over before he, a stupid blacksmith, could even imagine getting a hit in. 

Everyone’s laughs are worth it when he sees Sansa’s grateful smile. 

~ 

When Sansa’s betrothal to Prince Joffrey is broken and she is sent back to Winterfell, Gendry can tell that she is not the girl that left. She is quiet and rarely smiles, but she is still the perfect lady. 

However, every time Lord Stark presents her with a marriage proposal from another suitor, she refuses, stating that she is only 15 and much too young to marry yet, despite his memory of her bursting with excitement at the prospect years earlier. He can still remember the look on Lord Stark’s face as he watched his oldest daughter ride away with the king and his court when they left Winterfell after their second visit, can tell that Lord Stark is glad to have his daughter back. But Gendry knows that it tears Lord Stark apart when he tries to coax a smile out of Sansa, only to find sadness in her eyes. 

It makes Gendry sad that she doesn’t even yell at him when she finds him and Arya wrestling in the forge. 

The world is a little bit sadder with this new Sansa Stark. 

~ 

After Mikken succumbs to old age, Gendry finds himself an armorer rather than just an apprentice. It is quiet lately, and there aren’t too many orders for weapons. When he finishes washing soot and sweat from him, Gendry has nothing to do and decides to take a walk and explore Winterfell. 

Despite living there for most of his life, Winterfell is a mystery to Gendry, and he knows nothing of its secret passageways or hidden corners. However, it is the godswood that grasps his attention, and he finds himself wandering off in its direction. 

The snow is ankle deep, and Gendry’s legs begin to hurt as he hopes he is close to the Weirwood tree. A faint tune reaches Gendry’s ears; something sweet and pleasant, and he begins to follow it. Through the trees and the falling snow, Gendry can make out a figure kneeling on the ground in front of the crying tree. As he walks closer, the tune gets louder until it turns into the sweetest song Gendry has ever heard; the sound of steel singing is nothing compared to this. 

The figure turns slightly, and Gendry can see that it is Sansa, singing as she builds a snow fort. He turns, not wanting to intrude, but something makes him stay. He cannot say what, but something pulls him closer until he is standing but a few feet from Sansa, her sweet melody all he can hear. 

“M’lady--” he starts, but she lets out a frightened gasp, jumps away from him, and stands up. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you!” He holds out his arms, trying to calm her down. 

She is breathing hard, and he is almost certain he can hear her heart fluttering inside her chest. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m truly sorry, m’lady. I will leave.” 

“No!” He looks at her. She clears her throat. “Stay. Please.” Neither of them move. 

“As m’lady commands.” 

She sighs, exasperated. “Why do you always say that?” 

He looks at her in bewilderment. “That is what I was told to say to highborn ladies, ‘as m’lady commands’.” 

“Yes, but you--I’ve never heard you say it to Arya.” Gendry smiles and looks at Sansa. 

“She would kick me if I ever said that to her.” 

“But, not me?” Sansa asks, a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. 

“No, not you.” He hesitates. “Can I ask you something, m’lady?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why did you come back to Winterfell? Didn’t you want to marry Prince Joffrey?” 

“I did. But, time passed. I grew up. And, well, Joffrey was not who I had thought he was. I was just a womb to bear sons. No more, no less. There are plenty of other women that can fulfill that duty, and there are plenty of women eager to do so. I wrote my lord father that I wished to end my betrothal, and he did. I am eternally grateful.” 

“I am sorry, m’lady.” 

She looks at him. “I do not mean to be so forthright. It is not the place of a lady to behave so. You can return to Winterfell, if you please.” Gendry nods and turns to leave. “Oh, and Gendry?” 

“Yes?” 

“Call me Sansa.” 

And with a slight bow, he says, “As m’lady commands.” 

It is the first time he hears her laugh in years. 

~ 

Gendry hears the door to the forge shut softly, waking him from his slumber. The bed dips slightly and he feels a small hand on his bare shoulder. 

“Gendry?” Her warm breath tickles his ear. He sits up, moving as far away from her as possible. 

“What are you doing in here? If someone sees you, they’ll--” She places a finger over his lips. 

“No one saw me. I promise.” Gendry sighs and notices her shivering, the cold easily passing through her thin shift. 

“You’re freezing. Go back into the castle.” 

“No, I came here for something.” 

“What?” he asks, leaning in the put a blanket around her shoulders. 

She leans in and places her lips on his, her eyes closing as she does so. Gendry remains still, his eyes wide open. He notices how pale her skin was and how soft it looks in the pale light of the hearth. Her hands come up and frame his face, pushing her lips more forcefully on his, and he reluctantly gives into the kiss, closing his eyes and moving his mouth against hers. 

Her tongue peeks out and touches his lower lip, and he opens his mouth to her, groaning when he tastes her. His fingers tangle in her soft, fiery hair, and his thumb strokes the side of her neck. Her hands move to his shoulders, and he can feel her pushing him back onto his tiny cot. He moves his hands to her hips when she settles a knee on either side of him, and he is sure she can feel him hard against her stomach. 

“Sansa,” he says, pulling away. “We can’t.” 

“I want to,” she says, leaning down to kiss him again. He takes his hands off of her, leaving them at his side. “Gendry--” 

“I’m too bloody lowborn for m’lady.” 

She sits up. “Touch me.” Gendry remains unmoved, so she leans down and places her mouth right next to his ear. “ _Touch me_.” She catches his lobe between her teeth, nibbling and kissing. 

“As m’lady commands,” he moans out. He rolls them over, her surprised laughter ringing out. She pulls at her shift until it is completely off and she is left in her smallclothes. Gendry kisses down her neck, mouthing the valley between her breasts. 

“Gendry,” she moans, tugging at the laces on his breeches. He chuckles softly, helping her untie them. After he slides them off, he returns to her lips. His hand snakes underneath her smallclothes and he can feel how wet she already is. She breathes shakily as he cups her. 

He slides a finger into her, moaning at how warm and tight she is, and she whimpers softly. His thumb circles her nub as he pumps his finger in and out, adding another as her breathing gets heavier. She bucks against his hand and grasps at his back as she begins to shake. 

He kisses Sansa just as she peaks, swallowing her cries and moans. When she calms down, she’s still shaking, her breathing uneven. Gendry wipes his fingers on his blanket, and can feel his hardness becoming painful. He can feel her fingers ghosting across his stomach, threatening to go lower. He looks at her and thinks she’s the most beautiful creature in the world: her hair is splayed across his pillow, her eyes are bright blue, her mouth is pink and swollen from their kisses, and her skin is flushed. 

He kisses her lightly, and her hand wraps around him, his hips jerking in surprise. He lays his hand over hers, helping her move up and down. She starts to guide his cock towards her, but he stops and looks at her in confusion. 

“I want you,” she states. 

“I do not want to slight your honor--” 

“Have you not already slighted my honor? I am curious as to what your definition of slighting one’s honor is.” She looks smugly at him, and then her face softens. “You are one of the most honorable men I know, and that is more important to me than a title.” She leans up and kisses him softly. 

He readies himself, and, after she nods at him, he pushes into her. He moans loudly, the feel of her dizzying and almost too much. He doesn’t move for a moment, wanting both of them to get used to the feeling. She pushes lightly on his hips, and he begins to move slowly. He buries his face in her neck, trying to find the right rhythm for them, feeling like he’s going to go mad if he doesn’t move any faster. 

“Faster,” she says. He can’t find himself able to speak, but the words are there between them. _As m’lady commands._ He complies, his hips picking up speed until he groans once, twice, then shudders as he spills into her. 

They’re both breathing hard, her arms holding him tightly to her. He rests his head on her chest, and she runs her hands through his hair. 

“Do not leave me. _Please_ ,” she whispers, and he strokes the side of her arm. 

“As m’lady commands.” 

They both dissolve into laughter that quickly turns into kisses.


End file.
